Mirror Mirror
by death by storm
Summary: Matthew's father stumbles across a mirror one day. Deciding that Matthew needs something stylish in his room, Francis buys it. But little does Matthew know, this gift from his father is going to drag him through heaven and hell. A/C high school AU.
1. Prologue

So this is my first multichaptered story for Hetalia. Don't be fooled by the length, this is only the prologue. The chapters will be roughly 3000 words long. It will also be at least ten days until this is updated again merely because I have midterms coming up and am outlining another story with a friend.

**Disclaimer**: This applies to all chapters of this story. I do not own Hetalia and am not making money from this.

* * *

He was running again, gun clutched in his hands. The sound of his feet hitting the muddy, blood covered ground was completely drowned out by the sounds of battle. His entire group had been killed the moment they had gone over the trenches. Now, his only hope of survival was that he would make it back to his little hole in the ground in time.

It was a sunny day with skies so blue that if he looked up, it was as if there wasn't a battle going on below them. He nearly stumbled over a body and coughed to keep the bile down in his stomach where it belonged. Even after years of finding himself in such situations, he had never truly gotten used to seeing parts of what used to be another man scattered about on the ground as if they were a child's playthings. Deep down, he feared what would happen to him if he did.

The trench was almost in reach now. Just a few more feet and he would be home free. Then he could close his eyes for a few minutes and pretend that he didn't hear the screams of men dying and the crack of gunfire. A tug stopped him. There on the ground was a man on his side staring up at him with desperate eyes. The stranger was seriously injured, with the lower half of his right leg completely gone. From the amount of blood seeping out of the wound, it was obvious that the man wouldn't last long enough for the medics to get to him. This was obvious to the soldier as well, judging by his pleading eyes.

So he crouched down and threw the man's arm over his shoulder. Ignoring the man's screams of agony, he hauled him roughly to his feet.

"It's okay. Just grit your teeth and bear with it. I've got you," he said though it was not likely the other man could hear him.

Together they began to limp the last ten or so feet to the trench. They almost made it too. It was the stiffening of the injured man that first caught his attention. His back was arched forward and a dark red spot began to stain his chest area.

He sighed. It was another person that he couldn't save. He gently lowered the dying man to the ground and without looking back once, he continued towards the trench. Something struck his back with the force of a hammer leaving a burning pain trail through his body. It was followed by many other strikes, hot pokers thrusting through his body with a harsh twist. He gasped, but it was already too late. He was already falling to his knees.

As the light of the world began to fade around him, he felt no fear of what was happening to him. Instead he was scared of where he was going. Alfred let his eyes fall closed. This was probably about the fifth time that he had been shot to death. He let out his last breath and felt his heart stop.

* * *

It was cold. It always was and Alfred knew what would meet his eyes when he opened them. So instead he allowed himself to lie there, savouring the last bit of life's warmth before he had to face reality. Soon, too soon he felt the soft brushes of dampness against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see that the grey mists were caressing his body.

Alfred batted them away carelessly, not yet needing their cursed comforts. He had to find it. Alfred hauled himself to his feet, finding that his joints no longer ached. That was normal. He had no physical body here, but he still felt the mists and their ice cold touches. They made sure of it. Just like they would make sure to replay his most recent memories whenever they got a chance.

Alfred hunched over as he walked, shivering. As always, it looked the same in every direction. Alfred probably would never be able to find what he needed if this place was infinite. He almost wanted it to be. That way he wouldn't feel so trapped.

He hit the wall of his little bubble of reality and began to trace his hand along it. Alfred caught a gleam out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there it was. The shimmering portal. He placed a hand against it and felt the warmth of life begin to gently flow into him. Alfred saw tried to look into it to see where the portal was located. Only darkness stared back. The brief hope that had flared up in his chest died, but he had to admit that it was unlikely that a suitable candidate was on the other side just staring back at him. Usually it took months for someone he could use to approach the mirror.

He tilted his head forward until his forehead fell against the warm surface. Allowing his body to slide to the ground, Alfred curled up against the mirror. He didn't know at the time, but his hope would take almost a century.

* * *

So... please review?


	2. Chapter 1

Ever had a chapter that fights you as you write it every step of the way? Yeah this chapter was like that for me.

To Darkfire Kitten: Thank you for the review. Sorry for the wait.

To ARGLE: Thank you for the review.

To theygotstyle: I'm glad you enjoyed the prologue so much. Thank you for the review.

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia there would be more Canada.

* * *

Chapter 1

The bell rang, signifying the end of the day. Beside Matthew, Gilbert let out a whoop. Not even waiting for the teacher to dismiss them, he grabbed Matthew by the wrist and pulled him out of the classroom and into the hall. Together they began to dodge and weave through the crowd of chattering, school weary teenagers.

"I have a plan for what you can do with the awesome me," Gilbert proclaimed.

"What?" Matthew said.

"Come with me to my locker and I'll show you."

Gilbert virtually dragged him down the hall to his locker.

"W-wait! Slow down! I need to drop off my books as well eh?"

There was no answer from the albino. He just continued pulling Matthew in the direction he wanted to go.

"Gilbert!" Matthew tore his wrist away and fell back into someone.

"Aiyaah!"

"S-sorry!"

Wang Yao stared back at him in surprise. "Who are you? You just appeared out of thin air."

Matthew chuckled nervously. "A-actually I sit beside you in biology class."

"Is that so? I could have sworn..."

"It's okay. I seem to be a very forgettable person," Matthew said. "I'm Matthew."

"Ah that's not right. I will make sure to remember it from now on. I am Wang Yao." The Chinese boy smiled at him

"It's nice to meet you," Matthew said.

"Would you li-"

Wang Yao was cut off by Gilbert. "C'mon Birdie! I have to beat you at that new game at the arcade."

"Sorry. I'll see you later," Matthew said as he was inevitably dragged away again.

"Bye."

Because of the size of the town that Matthew lived in, their arcade was small. It had been here for several years now and he vaguely remembered it being a laundromat when he was a child. As they pushed open the door, a bell rang, barely heard over the din of explosions mixed with the occasional 'game over'

The vague odour of sweat reached Matthew, making him wrinkle his nose. He blamed it on the other teens that crowded the room.

"Look, Birdie!" Gilbert said. "They finally got Battle Arms 2. Will you submit to the honour of being challenged by the awesome me?"

Matthew felt his entire demeanour change and a smirk twisted his lips. "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. When will you realize that you are simply out of your league? When it comes to shooting games, I reign supreme."

"You wish. I'm going to beat you this time, Birdie," Gilbert said.

"Go ahead and start the game if you're so confident," Matthew said. He pulled some quarters out of his pocket.

Gilbert pulled out his own coins and shoved them into the machine. "I'll make you eat those words," he said.

"You can try, but you will fail," Matthew said.

His soft voice was almost completely drowned out by the music and electronic explosions. Judging from the narrowing of his best friend's eyes however, he had heard him.

In unison, both of them pulled the plastic guns from their slots. They held their guns at the ready as Gilbert chose a simple versus game out of the many options that were available to them. Within moments, Matthew shot him. Gilbert let out a protest as the screen went black.

"Again," Gilbert said eventually.

Matthew smirked.

* * *

"Mon petit, Matthieu, I have a present for you," Francis' voice echoed up the stairs.

Matthew jumped. He hadn't even known that his father was home. He carefully marked the page of the book he had been reading and set it down on his bed. Dodging the dusty mess that was his new bedroom, he slid down the ladder to the second floor. It had taken him some time to convince his Papa to allow him to turn the attic into a room. His initial reaction had been one of refusal.

_'Non, Matthieu. It is dusty up there and there are spiders. It's utterly disgusting when we have such a large house.'_

He had only been allowed to move in up there after he had promised to clean it from top to bottom. Which he hadn't done yet, but so far Francis hadn't checked on him.

Matthew skidded to a stop. His father was standing in the hallway wearing his usual stylish clothes and a beaming smile. Matthew gave him a hug in greeting.

"I have found the perfect thing for your room!" Francis exclaimed.

And unlike other teenagers, who may or may not have panicked at that statement, Matthew was just curious. His father was Francis Bonnefoy, and a world famous interior designer. Whatever he had chosen would was more likely than not to be something that would look really nice in his room.

"What is it?"

"You will have to help me get it out of the car, first. It is rather heavy," he said.

Matthew followed him outside, confused as to what would be large enough that they would both need to move that he didn't already own.

"Voila!" Francis said pulling the door open. Taking up most of both rows of seats in the rather spacious car was an antique, full length mirror. There was a cast iron stand still attached to it.

Matthew's jaw dropped. Then again, every once in a while, world famous interior designer or not, Francis would have a swing and a miss moment. This was one of those times.

"Uhm... Papa?" Matthew said.

Francis glanced at him. "Do you not like it? It's a real find too! I got it at a good price."

"It's... nice," he said weakly. "Thank you."

"Ah! Well it will grow on you," His father, as usual saw right through him. "The stand for it should be behind the driver's seat. Matthieu, could you take it upstairs and set it up? Now let us get this inside the house."

"Sure."

Matthew gingerly lifted up one side of the mirror with his father and realized that yes, it was indeed as heavy as it looked. Possibly even heavier. Together, the two males struggled with it all the way up inside the house. They set it down in the entrance hall so that his father could close the door behind them. It made a dull thunk as it met with the floor.

Matthew took the opportunity to give the mirror a proper once over and saw that it lived up to the name antique. The mirror itself was unadorned. The frame was painted a faded gold and despite its age still looked strong. It was a simple frame, though when Matthew looked more closely he could see a faint patterns of vines twisting gently in the border of the wood. He had to admit that it was rather beautiful. It just wasn't him.

"Papa? How old is this mirror?"

"At least three hundred years old," Francis ran his hand along the mirror's frame.

"How... how did you get it?" Matthew asked.

"An antique dealer who did not know what he had. When I expressed interest in it, he gave me a very low price. He seemed a bit eager to get it off his hands."

"Really? Why?"

"He never said, though he did seem afraid of it. He refused to handle it himself," Francis glanced back at the large piece. "Ah well. His loss."

It took a good ten minutes of struggling to get the bulky thing down the hall and up the ladder into Matthew's room. Matthew reached along the wall and flicked the light on.

Francis sneezed and waved a hand in an attempt to clear the air. "You still haven't cleaned up this mess?"

"I did start," Matthew said defensively.

Francis glanced around. "I can see that. You will clean up the rest of this after dinner. Now as for the mirror, I believe it would look best standing over here..."

It took a couple of minutes of further struggling and sneezing before his father was satisfied with where the mirror was set.

"I am going to cook dinner and you will continue to clean up this mess, oui?"

"Oui, Papa," Matthew sighed.

With a smile, Papa headed back down the steps. Matthew glanced around the room and took note of the large amount of boxes set pretty much everywhere besides the small area that he had carved out for himself.

"This is going to take forever," Matthew moaned.

He sat down and grabbed the first box, releasing a small cloud of dust in the air. Was all of this stuff even theirs? He sighed and wandered over to his desk and picked up a pen. Matthew knelt by the old box and broke the seal. He winced when he saw what was inside. A picture of his parents on their wedding day. Matthew picked it up and took a really good look at it. They looked so much younger, especially his father. He ignored the twinge in his heart and carefully set the picture out of the way.

He glanced back into the box and found that it was full of pictures; all of them featuring his mother. Matthew let out a sigh and resealed the box. He placed it in the corner and labelled it 'to keep'. He grabbed the next one which turned out to be full of some of his old toys.

"I guess I'll donate these," he said to no one in particular.

He pulled out another box from the pile. Matthew saw with a little catch in his throat that it was labelled in his mother's loopy handwriting that was so similar to his own. Gently, he eased the box open. A dozen old spell books stared up at him.

"I wonder if Papa knows about these..." Matthew gently lifted the uppermost book out of the box. The book was mottled with water stains and seemed extremely old. The faded silver lettering of the title gleamed dully in the light of his room.

"'The Basics of Spellcasting?' 'How to Talk to the Fae?' 'Rituals of Revenge?' The last one sounds kind of dark," Matthew murmured as he set the first book down and began to look through the box in earnest.

Matthew rarely got to see the family from his mother's side with the exception of his cousin Arthur who had known his father for a very long time. There was no other way to describe their relationship. The two men toed the line between friends and enemies far too often for that. He knew that his mother's side of the family had been practising sorcery for hundreds of years, but he hadn't known that his mother still had some of her spell books. The occasional time that they had visited the Kirkland family, he could tell that his father had not truly believed in the rituals that his wife's family had observed. And thanks to some drunken gossip that he had overheard as a child, he knew that his mother had given up her spell work without telling Francis when they first began to date.

"I wonder if Arthur would like to take a look at these..."

An hour later, Matthew heard his father call him downstairs for dinner. A gleam off the mirror caught his eye. He peered into it only to see his own reflection with tired eyes matching his staring back. Matthew shook his head. He really didn't know what his father had been thinking.

"How was your day, Matthieu?"

Matthew looked up from his soup. "It was fine. We have to do a collaborative project on a play by Shakespeare for English. Gil's coming over tomorrow after school for a couple of hours to work on it with me."

"Ah, that's good. Do not forget, Arthur is coming over tomorrow for supper."

"I remember," Matthew said.

"I'm leaving in again in a couple of days. There is an interior design show in America that I have been invited to attend. There is also the prospect of a job down there so I may be a few months."

"Ah," Matthew said with sad smile.

Francis winced. "I an sorry Matthieu. I know I said that I would be here a little longer this time."

"It's okay," Matthew said quietly. "You're busy right?"

For a few moments, it was silent in the room except for the clinking of cutlery on plates.

"So, I've been thinking. It is not good for you to be here by yourself all of the time," Francis said. "And lately I've been called away so often. I think we should rent out a room so that there is someone else here. What do you think?"

Matthew paused and thought. "Well, it would make the place a little less lonely."

"Then we shall begin the search when I come back."

* * *

It was late at night by the time that Matthew had finally finished cleaning his room. He flopped onto his bed and picked up his old stuffed bear, Kumajirou. Kumajirou. The beloved bear had been in his possession ever since he was a toddler. It was a gift from his mother, making it all the more precious since she had passed away a few years ago. The last time he had seen her, she had been about to leave for a brief road trip with her girl friends. She had embraced Matthew and told him that she loved him. Then with a kiss for his father, she had been out the door. When they had gotten the call, his father had been devastated and had all but thrown himself into his work in the following months. The nights that his father did go out, he rarely returned until late the next morning. Matthew shook his head in an attempt to get rid of his depressing thoughts.

He let out a yawn and glanced at the clock. He should have been asleep hours ago. There was school in the morning. Matthew rushed out of his room to the washroom and quickly readied himself for bed. He turned off the light, leaving his entire room in darkness except for the light of a streetlamp streaming in from his window. It cast ominous shadows from the stacks of boxes that he had piled in one corner of his room. Matthew clutched Kumachi closer and stifled another yawn.

He had always loved this time of night. It was as if the whole world was at peace with itself. The floorboards creaked under the weight of his feet as he headed towards his bed. He had definitely done a good job cleaning up today. Something gleamed out of the corner of his eye.

Matthew pivoted, and let out an undignified yelp of surprise as a shadow of a man loomed out of the corner larger and bulkier than himself. His heart pounded as he stretched a trembling hand along the wall. He nearly gasped in relief when his fingers found the light switch and he flicked it on. It was... his own reflection. Feeling silly, he walked over to the mirror and gazed into it to see his own face staring back at him. He sighed. Maybe he had been talking to his cousin too much lately.

Snuggling down into his bed, he dropped off quickly, unaware of the blue eyes watching him from the corner of the room.

* * *

Curled up with the double edged affection of the mist, Alfred heard a voice pierce through the darkness for the first time in decades. He opened his eyes and found himself leaning against the portal. His heart skipped a beat as he heard that voice again answering someone else.

_"How old is this mirror, Papa?"_

Alfred shakily got to his feet. He had to see who this person was. The one with the sweet voice. His saviour. He glanced out of the portal, making sure that he was far enough away that they couldn't see him in the mirror on the other side. And there he was. If Alfred was a religious man, which he wasn't not in the conventional sense anymore at least, he would say that he had just caught sight of an angel. If he was a poet, he might mention how the young man with golden curls and violet eyes was like a beacon light in the ever present grey fog he lived in.

Alfred wasn't either of those things. The teenager examining the mirror with a frown on his face meant one thing to him and one thing only.

He was someone whom he could replace. A way to get out of the mirror and once again try to earn his freedom.

* * *

I am my own beta, so if you noticed any mistakes that I might have missed, feel free to point them out to me.

Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 2

The next chapter of this won't be up until the end of April due to working two jobs and going to school full time as well. I am taking the summer off from school though. So I should have more time for this story.

And I should thank you all for the reviews, favourites, and alerts. So thank you! Your comments really warm my heart.

To Sam: Thanks for the review. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story.

* * *

The alarm went off bright and early the next morning. Matthew rolled over and batted at it with his hand in a bid to put it to sleep. He knocked his glasses to the ground instead. Fully awake now, he sat up and turned off the alarm clock. Cautiously, he felt around the floor until he came in contact with his glasses and put them on.

Matthew rubbed his sleep fogged eyes as he headed into the bathroom and started up the shower. He hummed to himself as he shampooed his hair. After making sure he was clean, he shut off the tap. Matthew wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back out to his bedroom to get dressed.

The gleam of morning light caught his eye as it shone off the mirror. Matthew made his way over to it and took a look at his reflection.

"Must not have gotten enough sleep last night," he murmured. "Huh?"

Nestled neatly at the top corner of the mirror frame was a message carved in the wood.

_June 12, 1840. I have sealed the beast who dwells within this mirror. Let all ye who come before it be 'ware -_

The words cut off right there. Matthew reached up and rubbed at the wood to see if there were any more words hidden by the paint. The writing stayed the same and no more was revealed.

"Odd," he muttered. "I don't remember that being there before. Perhaps someone placed a spell on it?"

Matthew decided to dismiss it for the moment and concentrated on getting ready for school.

* * *

A knock sounded at the door. Matthew reluctantly tore his attention away from his pancakes. It was a bit early yet to leave for school and there was only one person that it could be.

"The awesome me has arrived!" Gilbert's shout echoed across the entrance hall. "Where are you, Birdie? I have come to help you eat pancakes."

Matthew rolled his eyes. He figured as much. "In the kitchen."

Gilbert stepped into the kitchen "Did you make any extra?"

"I did," Matthew said amused at how hopeful his friend sounded. "I always end up making more than I can eat."

He pushed a pile of pancakes across the checkered tablecloth. Gilbert plunked himself down and poured syrup all over them.

"I thought you were walking with Antonio today," Matthew remarked.

"Nah, he sucks today."

"What?"

"You know, Lovino? Feliciano's brother? Antonio finally got the guts to ask him out and the guy actually said yes this time!"

"Ah," Matthew nodded sagely. "So you have come to bother me because of this?"

"And the fact that you make awesome pancakes," Gilbert polished off the last of his pancakes in record time. "Your clock is slow by the way."

"What? I just changed the batteries!" Matthew stood up in alarm.

"It's not that slow, Birdie," Gilbert leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Just by fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?" Matthew shrieked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted pancakes."

"That's no reason not to tell me." Matthew grabbed his backpack from beside the front door and ran out of the house.

"For your pancakes, Birdie, it definitely is." Gilbert sauntered out after him.

Matthew raced down the street at maximum speed. He hated being late to school and he was irritated that his friend hadn't said anything to him about the time. Gilbert was always doing this. It was like he enjoyed seeing Matthew in a panic. Finally, Matthew burst into his first class and gasped for breath as he collapsed on his seat.

"Nice of you to join us, Matthew," Roma said. "Do you know the answer?"

"The answer?" Matthew said blankly.

"Yes, Matthew. The answer to the question. What are the two largest veins in the human body?

"Um," Matthew said. Oh he was going to _murder_ Gilbert later.

"It's the superior and inferior vena cava aru," Yao whispered.

He repeated the answer out loud. "Thanks," he replied the moment the teacher's attention was on someone else.

"You're welcome, Matthew," the Chinese boy replied.

When the bell rung signalling lunch, Matthew headed out of the school to a stand of trees where his friends usually sat to eat lunch. Katyusha was already there when he arrived. He sat under his favourite tree and leaned against its cool bark.

"Hey, Matthew," she said softly.

"Hey," Matthew replied. "Do you know where Gilbert is?"

"No. I haven't seen him since Art," Katyusha replied.

"He'd better get here soon," he muttered. "We have a project due in a couple of weeks for English and he promised to come over and work on it."

"Hey, Birdie!"

Despite his best intentions, Matthew yelped when he was grabbed from behind. He turned to see the German - or Prussian as Gilbert insisted on calling himself - doubled over with laughter. "That wasn't funny!"

"Yes it was. You're just not awesome enough to admit it!"

Matthew socked him in the knee and he fell to the ground. "Oww, your punches hurt!"

"S-sorry. Are you still coming over to work on the project later?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Gilbert said.

Matthew bit into his sandwich. "You'd better."

* * *

They headed to Matthew's house after school, idly chatting about their project. Matthew still hadn't forgiven his friend for his antics earlier in the day.

Matthew unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"I always forget just how huge your house is," Gilbert said.

Matthew shrugged. "Papa is the one who insisted on staying here after Mom died even though it's only the two of us. Would you like something to eat?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Would you like something to drink then?" Matthew said. "I have pop."

"Sounds good," Gilbert said. He headed up the stairs towards where he thought Matthew's room lay.

"Umm... Gil," Matthew poked his head out of the kitchen. "I moved."

"Moved?"

"I'll show you," Matthew said. "Just give me a second."

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed two cans of coke out of the fridge. Then he registered the mess and set the pop back down on the counter. Papa would be in tears if he saw the condition that his beautiful kitchen had been left in. The plates from that morning's breakfast had been dumped haphazardly into the sink along with the mixing bowl. The pan that he had used was still on the stove as well. He grimaced at the sight of the pancake batter, which had been somehow been splashed all over the counter and had dried after several hours of sitting there.

Matthew stepped out of the kitchen.

"So. Where's your room?" Gilbert said.

"We have to clean up the mess that we left this morning."

"What's with this 'we'? I'm a guest inside your house."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Okay. You don't have to clean up."

He walked over to the sink and put in the drainage plug. He turned on the tap and splattered soap over the dirty dishes. "Of course that does mean no more pancakes for a month."

Gilbert came barrelling into the kitchen. "On the other hand..."

Matthew washed the dishes in a meticulous fashion while Gilbert dried them and put them away. His friend didn't ask where anything went. It just went to show how often Gilbert came over and was forced to do chores for Matthew after the former had raided his fridge.

When the last dish was sparkling clean, Matthew pulled the plug and allowed the sink to drain while he scrubbed vigorously at the counters. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Gilbert watching him with a peculiar look on his face.

"What?" Matthew said.

"Are you finished yet?"

"Yeah, I'm done," Matthew rolled his eyes and dried his hands. He pushed one of the cans of Coke that he had grabbed earlier into Gilbert's hand and headed upstairs.

"So?"

"Just a moment," Matthew said. He jumped up and grabbed a string that was hanging from the ceiling.

The stairway made a loud clunking noise as it slid down out of the open part of the ceiling and landed on the floor.

"You live in the attic now? That's pretty cool, Birdie," Gilbert said.

"Thanks," Matthew said. He stepped around the staircase and started to climb up. Matthew looked down to see Gilbert staring up at him with a grin. "What are you doing?"

"Just enjoying the view," Gilbert said.

Matthew coloured. "W-what?"

Gilbert just smirked back at him. "Are we going to do this project or not?"

"Y-yeah," Matthew muttered.

Matthew snapped on the light as he reached the top. Gilbert came up behind him.

"I still need to get rid of the last of the boxes, but here we are," Matthew said.

Gilbert's gaze was immediately drawn to the large antique mirror in the corner of the room. He burst out laughing.

"You're so girly, Matthew."

"I am not! Papa got that for me," Matthew said indignantly. "Besides, it's starting to grow on me."

"Suuure," Gilbert said.

The albino walked over to the mirror and looked into it. His reflection stared back.

"How old is this thing?"

"I don't know for sure. There is a date on the top right hand corner though," Matthew sighed. "Can we work on this English project now?"

"'June 12, 1840. I have sealed the beast who dwells within this mirror. Let all ye who come before it be 'ware...'" Gilbert turned to look at him. "That's pretty creepy, Birdie."

"It's probably just someone's idea of a prank," Matthew sat down on his bed and began to rifle through his bag. "Most of the time those curses aren't even real."

"And they are the other half of the time?"

Gilbert's voice had been light and teasing, but Matthew couldn't help thinking that he heard some suspicion in that tone. "N-no. B-But they do have some grain of truth in them."

Internally, he winced at his horrible attempt at lying. He'd have to be more careful next time. No one outside of the family was supposed to know anything. Matthew nearly shook his head at the thought. He was probably just overreacting. He knew that if he was in Gilbert's place, he would definitely not expect that his best friend was connected to one of the few magical families left. Or that magic was real in the first place.

Gilbert chuckled, but his eyes were narrowed. Matthew suppressed the urge to gulp. His friend was aware that he was lying. "You're right about that. It would be interesting if it were real. I mean, not as interesting as me of course, but still pretty cool."

"N-not really," Matthew replied. "I'm the one who would have to live with a c-cursed mirror then. C-can we get back to the project now? This topic is really not the best one when I have to live with such a weird piece of furniture in the first place. You're going to give me nightmares."

"You-" Gilbert paused and looked closely at Matthew. "Let's get started on this project then."

Matthew sighed internally. Great. Gilbert probably thought that he was scared of the dark or imaginary curses or something else along those lines. Matthew shifted to put a bit more room between them when Gilbert sat too closely to him. He pulled out his copy of Hamlet out of his bag.

"Have you read it yet?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Well duh, Birdie. It's due in a few days. What do we have to do again?"

"An analysis on two of the characters and we need to act out a scene between the two," Matthew said.

"Which one do you want to do?"

Matthew shrugged. "Hamlet and Horatio were my two favourite characters."

"We'll do the scene where Hamlet is dying. I'll be Hamlet and you can be Horatio."

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright so shall we each do one character? Possibly the characters that we are are going to be acting out the parts of?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah," Matthew said. "We can start now."

"Oh Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo. Deny thy father and refuse thy-"

"Are you sure you read the right play?"

"... Yes."

Matthew rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his friend, his earlier irritation vanishing. There was a light to Gilbert's eyes when it was just the two of them instead of their regular group. His friend had seemed a little depressed lately, and it was nice to see the familiar playful humour that he was so used to return to Gilbert's eyes. Even now he was leaning back against Matthew's headboard, red eyes glinting in the lamplight. Gilbert began to reach forward as if to-

"Don't," Matthew slapped his hand away from his curl.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"N-no. It just bothers me when people pull it."

"I wasn't going to pull it. I was just going to brush it out of your face for you," Gilbert replied.

"Why would you do that?"

"I just thought it would be unawesome if you couldn't concentrate on the project because of it." Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was obvious that his friend was lying.

Matthew flipped his book open with a sigh. "You can't lie to me. You just wanted to yank on it because you know it bugs me."

Gilbert just gave him one of his smirks.

It was dark by the time that they declared themselves finished for the day. Matthew stretched, relieving the kinks that had formed in his body from sitting still so long. He nudged Gilbert.

"What?"

"It's getting late and we're supposed to have company over tonight," Matthew said.

Gilbert chuckled. "You're so awkward, Birdie. Okay, okay I'll leave. See you tomorrow."

Matthew got up. "I should at least see you to the door."

"Nah, I can find -" Gilbert paused as something in the mirror caught his eye. He screamed.

"What? What is it, Gil?" Matthew grabbed the albino's arm.

"I thought- never mind." Gilbert said. He took a deep breath and looked at the mirror. "I'm just over tired."

"You're trembling," Matthew said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I just thought I saw something in the mirror," Gilbert said. "A guy similar to you but covered in blood was looking back at me."

Matthew walked towards the mirror and peered in, only to see his own reflection staring back at him. He tugged Gilbert towards it as well. "See? It's only us."

Gilbert let out a shadow of his usual cackle. "I told you, Birdie. I think I'm just a bit tired."

"Alright then," Matthew replied. "Just make sure you actually get some sleep tonight."

"I will," Gilbert said.

"Good," Matthew murmured.

He followed Gilbert to the staircase and let the ladder drop out of the floor. Gilbert went ahead first, with Matthew right behind him. As they left the room, Matthew couldn't help but shoot a suspicious glance at the mirror. It sat there innocently as if Matthew was crazy to think that there was something wrong with it.

They ran into Francis who was laid down with groceries at the door.

"I hope you didn't do anything I wouldn't do, chou," he chuckled.

"Yes, Papa," Matthew said automatically. He was far too adjusted to his father's innuendo to react with more than a mild blush.

"I guess I'd better go," Gilbert said. "See you at school, Birdie!"

"Bye, Gil."

He grabbed his backpack and put on his shoes before heading out the door. Matthew waved at him with a smile and then turned to his smirking father.

"What?" Matthew demanded.

"L'amour is beautiful, non?"

"I don't have a crush on Gil!" Matthew said.

"I never said that you were the one with the crush, Matthieu," Francis replied.

Matthew flushed. "He doesn't have one on me. He's just a little friendly. That's all."

"You remember that Arthur is coming over today oui?" Francis chose to ignore his son's spluttering.

"Yes, I remember, Papa," Matthew sighed as they headed into the kitchen.

"Have you finished all of your homework?"

Matthew began to put the groceries away while Francis began pulling out pots and pans.

"Pretty much," Matthew said. "We have a project due later this week which is why he was here."

"Ah, I hope you do find l'amour soon, mon chou," Francis sighed wistfully. "By the time that I was your age, I'd gone through-"

"I know, I know," Matthew said. "I just want to wait for the right person."

His father merely smiled back.

* * *

The door bell rang at precisely six o'clock. Matthew opened the door to see his cousin standing there.

"Hello Matthew."

His cousin, as always was dressed in his sweater vest and no nonsense slacks. It made it harder for Matthew to believe what his mother had once told him. That Arthur had gone through a phase where he had worn nothing but punk clothing and had dyed his hair outrageous colours.

"Hey, Arthur."

"Arthur is here?"

"Yes, you frog," Arthur snapped, dropping his gentleman exterior.

Arthur was closer to Francis's age than Matthew's. Though Matthew had always gotten along with him better than his dear Papa. It had been like this since he could remember and according to Francis they had been like this since they were children. The only difference was that the hatred that they had for each other when they were younger had long since faded away replaced by what Francis called light bickering.

"Settle down rosbif! I know that you are eager to sample some real food, instead of the charcoal that you rape your tastebuds with, but you will have to wait."

"Why you-!" Arthur growled.

Matthew sighed. Sometimes he doubted his father's sanity.

"I was wondering if I could show Arthur something," Matthew interrupted. "I was cleaning out the attic the other day and I found a box that he might be interested in."

"Anything to get away from this frog!" Arthur said.

"Oh you know you love me, Arthur," his father practically sang back.

"Papa picked up a mirror at an antique shop the other day. The shopkeeper seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He said that the man seemed scared of it," Matthew said the moment his father had gone back into the kitchen.

Arther frowned. "There are a lot of mirrors like that. Most of the time, it's more a case of the owner wanting to get rid of a piece of unwanted merchandise."

"This one's just a little weird. Could you please take a look at it?"

"Of course, Matthew. Lead the way."

Matthew pulled down the staircase that lead to his new room.

"It's up here," he said.

"That's a rather odd place for a new piece of furniture," Arthur said.

"Actually it's my new room." Matthew began to climb up the stairs into the attic.

"Aren't you getting a little too old to invite people into your room? You should be entertaining them downstairs in your living room, or even the basement. What kind of manners is that frog teaching you?"

Matthew flushed. "It's not like I can drag it downstairs! It's too big."

"There, there. No need to get all flustered, lad."

"Sorry."

Matthew reached the top and stepped into his dark room. He flicked on the light.

"It's quite alright," Arthur was right behind him.

Matthew headed straight over to the mirror. "Here- what?"

The message was now complete.

_June 12, 1840,_

_I have sealed the beast who dwells within this mirror. Let all ye who come before it be 'ware of the darkness that dwells within. Look not within this mirror if the sealing circle is visible, for in it your soul will be lost._

A string of symbols were set underneath with the beginnings of a curved line beneath them. From Matthew's limited knowledge, it was part of a type of sealing circle.

"That wasn't there before," Matthew said.

Arthur came around and looked at it as well.

"Has anything strange happened since then?"

"Uh-"

"Matthew, this is really important," Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him close to his face. "_Has anything strange happened around the mirror?_"

"Gilbert thought he saw me instead of his reflection in it earlier today," Matthew whispered. "He said later that I was dressed in an old soldier's uniform. Covered in blood."

"I need to have a look at it." Arthur released him so abruptly that Matthew nearly stumbled. "Go stand by the trap door."

Matthew scrambled to obey. Arthur slipped behind the mirror and tore Matthew's blanket off the bed. He held in a word of protest as Kumachiko went flying. Arthur threw it over the front of the mirror.

Arthur beckoned him forward and together they slowly lowered the mirror to the floor, using the blanket to cushion it. Arthur's posture was tensed, as if he expected it to turn around and attack him.

Arthur's eyes closed as he ran his fingers over the back of the frame. When he found nothing, he and Matthew slipped off the back of the frame. With the frame in pieces on the floor, Arthur's fingers ran along the glass backing completely unhindered. He paused and muttered a string of words under his breath as he ran his fingers over it again. After ten minutes, Arthur's eyes opened.

"I can't find anything wrong with the mirror itself, Matthew," Arthur said finally. "No spells, no seals, no curses or any sort of magic, malevolent or not. What I'm guessing is that somewhere along the lines, someone must have broken the mirror that once resided in the other frame. And they simply used the old frame around it. The frame itself used to be an enchanted one, which is why the back came off so easily. Look, there is very little of the original bonds left. This resin would normally stop us from taking apart the mirror's back frame the way we did."

"It's not that old then, is it." Matthew said.

Arthur nodded "In that you are correct, Matthew. The mirror itself is a newer one."

"What about the spell?" Matthew asked.

"You most likely broke the sealing circle when you two moved the mirror. That's why you were able to see those words. My guess would be that the person who removed the original mirror didn't break the spell by pure accident, or that whoever did it knew what they were doing and planned to claim it was an enchanted item and sell it for a high price."

"So there's nothing wrong with it then?"

"Nothing at all," Arthur said. "Just remember now, fae or some spirits may come poking about because I cast spells here. You know to leave them be and they'll leave you alone as well, right?"

"Yes, Arthur."

Together, they heaved it back into position and Matthew tossed his blanket back onto his bed.

"Thank you for looking at it," Matthew said.

"You are quite welcome, lad. Are you sure you don't want to learn -"

"I'm positive," Matthew said. "It's just not something I'm interested in and Papa would be so disappointed if I did."

Dinner ended up being as much as an entertainment as it usually was when Arthur came for a visit. Matthew mainly stayed silent as he watched Francis and Arthur verbally spar. Matthew glanced down at his food. That was weird. They were using the good china tonight. Lately, whenever Arthur came over for dinner it seemed as if Francis put in just a little more effort than normal and despite the bickering going on between Arthur and Francis, the atmosphere was relaxed. They ended up watching a movie afterwards from which Matthew excused himself claiming that he needed extra rest as it was a school night.

* * *

Matthew came out of the bathroom clean and tired. He pulled on his sleeping attire, an old t shirt and boxers with maple leaves scattered all over it. After grabbing his comb, he made his way over to the mirror. The only thing staring back at him was his own reflection. He quickly ran the comb through his hair before setting it and his glasses on the nightstand. Matthew climbed into bed and immediately fell into the world of dreams.

It was late at night when Matthew awoke suddenly. He felt around for his glasses and checked the time. Three thirty am glared back up at him in dull red numbers. Matthew sighed and got up. It always took him a while to fall back to sleep when he woke up so late. He knew from experience that he would be up for at least an hour no matter what he tried. He turned on the lamp beside his bed and padded over to his bookcase. Matthew skimmed his hand over the titles and pulled one out at random. Book tucked safely in one hand, Matthew headed past the mirror on his way back to bed.

A flash of white caught the corner of his eye. The corner of the frame was chipped, revealing the raw flesh of unstained wood. He and Arthur must have done it accidentally when dismantling it the day before. Matthew sighed and reached up to inspect the damage.

"Ouch!" Matthew yanked back his fingers in surprise. "It shocked me!"

Matthew took a closer look and saw that more of the sealing circle had appeared. He shuddered. Arthur was right; it was unnerving. A set of cornflower blue eyes gleamed out of the mirror. Matthew swallowed back a shout of surprise.

That was it. Matthew marched over to his bed, grabbed one of his blankets and threw it over the face of the mirror. He removed the other blanket from his bed and started towards his door. He stopped, turned around and dashed back across the room and took Kumajirou off the bed. Matthew opened the trapdoor and heart pounding in his throat, he heard the staircase creak loudly as it unfolded itself to the ground below. Why did everything always have to seem louder at night?

Matthew froze, and trembled as a soft sigh came from behind him. He hugged Kumajirou tightly and wondered wildly if whatever it was could hear the sound of his hammering heart. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down. It was just curious spirits having a little fun at my expense, Matthew said to himself. If I wait a few moments, they'll -

Bang! Matthew jumped and froze as the sound was followed by a very human cry of pain. He glanced over his shoulder to see the mirror undisturbed in the lamplight. Another groan echoed through the room. Before he could register what was happening, his feet had already carried him down the staircase. He paused just long enough to push it back into the ceiling, before racing down into the living room.

Matthew curled up on the couch with Kumajirou and took deep breaths until his heart felt a little less like it was going to break out of his chest. As his fear slowly began to give way to exhaustion there was only one thing Matthew was sure of. Arthur had been wrong. Whatever had come to visit him and take up residence in his mirror was no spirit or ghost that he knew of.

* * *

Thoughts?

Finally, is working again! Sorry about sending out those replies saying that the next chapter was up. I didn't expect the site to postblock me. Since has been on the fritz rather often lately, I do have this story also posted on if something goes wrong where I can't update, that is where the updates will be.


	4. Chapter 3

Do I have any excuse for this being so horribly late? Unfortunately, no, but enjoy anyway.

To Nilla: Thank you for the review.

* * *

"Matthieu?" Matthew cracked open his eyes. "Are you ill?"

His father was leaning down over him with a worried look in his eyes. Matthew sat up from his nest of blankets on the couch with a yawn. It wasn't even light out yet, but his father was already dressed for the day.

"Non, Papa," he said tiredly. "Just a rough night. I couldn't get to sleep so I came downstairs."

Francis tsked at him. "You should take care of yourself properly, Matthieu. And you wonder why I have asked Arthur to check up on you?"

"S-sorry. I'll be more careful."

Francis nodded. "Just so you remember, my flight is this afternoon. I have to head out early to make sure that the appropriate preparations are made. Come! Give your Papa a hug."

Matthew did so. His father kissed him on the top of the head. "Arthur will be coming every few days to check on you. There is money in the top cupboard for food if you need it. I should be back in two weeks."

"Bye, Papa."

"Bye, chou. Be safe."

After his father left, Matthew got up and wandered into the kitchen. There was no use in going back to sleep when he had to get up in half an hour anyway. Despite being up early, he wasn't in the mood to cook his usual pancakes. So he pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard and sloshed some milk into a cereal bowl. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and sat down at the kitchen table.

In the calm of the morning, Matthew couldn't help but wonder what had happened up in his room. He suppressed yawn and began to pick at his food. It wasn't a spirit. Or at least an ordinary one. Very few people could actually see spirits and be affected by them and as far as Matthew knew, he wasn't one of them. So what could it be then? Some type of fae playing a trick on him? It wouldn't have been the first time that it had happened. They would occasionally hang about after Arthur had left and play pranks on him. It was especially irritating since he couldn't see them and he wouldn't put it past them. He had been a small child the last time that they had scared him that badly.

But they had also gotten bored of him shortly after he had lost any fear of their trickery. Still, Matthew couldn't help but hope that it was the fae playing tricks on him. The alternative could be far worse.

Despite these thoughts or in spite of his thoughts, Matthew grabbed Kumajirou off of the couch on his way back up to his room. He held his beloved stuffed bear out in front of him for protection as he entered the room. The early morning sun filtered in through the curtains casting a hazy glow throughout the still room. He could smell the faint smell of must that still permeated his room despite the cleaning he had done over the past few days. The mirror itself sat undisturbed with the blanket that Matthew had thrown over it last night hanging haphazardly from the frame.

Matthew approached it. With Kumajirou still pressed to his chest, he cautiously reached out one hand and lifted a corner of the blanket. Only the gleam of old glass was revealed. No haunted blue eyes peered out of the frame and no sounds of pain or gunfire greeted his ears. Perhaps it had been a nightmare? In the bright safety of daylight it seemed silly to be scared of a piece of furniture that Arthur himself had checked for spells.

Matthew began to chuckle nervously. Perhaps he had imagined it? Even though Arthur had scanned the mirror, maybe he had been so nervous that he had dreamt of the sounds around the mirror? Matthew shook his head at his own silliness and began to get ready for the day. Yet when he left the room for the final time that morning, he couldn't ignore the sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. One that told him that he was dead wrong.

Matthew yawned again as he sat next to Gilbert at lunch later that day.

"You look tired, Matthew."

"Just had a rough night. Couldn't sleep," Matthew said.

"Do you wanna hang out after school today with me and Kat?"

"Sorry, Gil," Matthew said. "I'm busy tonight."

"Awww. C'mon Birdie!" Gilbert complained. "It won't be nearly as fun without you."

"If I could back out, I would," Matthew said. "But I have a project that's due tomorrow."

"Now that is lame."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Matthew got home. He unlocked the door and headed straight upstairs to deposit his stuff in his room. He pulled on the trapdoor. Slowly it creaked and groaned its way to the ground making Matthew wonder if he should have it oiled or not. A low roar of rushing air met his ears.

"Did I leave my window open?"

Matthew ascended the stairs quickly. The blanket that he had thrown over the mirror was fluttering madly in the gusting wind. He turned towards the window and saw that it was still closed. He then looked back towards the mirror. It was exactly as he had feared.

Matthew raced down the stairs so fast that he nearly fell. He pushed the staircase back in the ceiling and grabbed the cordless off of the receiver. His fingers were trembling so badly that it took him two tries to punch in Arthur's number. He held his breath as it began to ring on the other end. What would he do if Arthur wasn't home?

"Hello?" Matthew nearly sobbed in relief.

"A-Arthur?"

"What is it lad? You sound positively frazzled."

"You were wrong," Matthew said. "Th-there's something wrong with that mirror. When I got home today- I thought the window was open when I first stepped into the room. B-But the wind was coming from the mirror itself."

"Stay downstairs or better yet, get out of the house until I get there," Arthur said. "I have to pick up some things so that we can seal whatever it is back inside. Do you have salt?"

"W-would drive way salt do?" Matthew asked. "I don't really have any table salt... would driveway salt do?"

"Yes. Salt is salt, though table salt is generally purer. We'll just need to use a thicker line," Arthur said. "I'll be over in half an hour."

"Thanks, Arthur."

"Stay safe, Matthew."

As soon as Matthew hung up the phone, he grabbed Kumakichi off of the couch and buried his nose into the bear's fur. He breathed deeply and allowed the familiar scent of acrylic to sooth him. A bang came from upstairs and he tightened his arms on the stuffed animal. It was a good thing his father wasn't here right now.

Twenty minutes later a car screeched into the driveway. Arthur stepped out, wearing a dark purple hooded robe. Matthew got up and opened the door before his cousin had even reached the porch step.

"Did you grab the salt from the garage yet?" Arthur asked in greeting.

Matthew nodded and clutched Kumakiko tighter.

"Good," Arthur pulled out a second robe from the large bag that he was holding. "Put this on. It shows respect to the gods that we'll be asking help from tonight."

"I know, Arthur."

Matthew pulled on the robe over his clothes and tied the sash. He flicked the hood up so that it shadowed his eyes.

"I didn't think you would have the right coloured candles, so I just brought the eight we'll need."

"Thanks for doing this," Matthew said. "You didn't have to."

"It's not a problem, Matthew," Arthur said. "You know you can come to me for help."

"Brace yourself," Matthew pulled at the string and the staircase unfolded. But unlike earlier in the day, the sound of roaring wind did not greet his ears. "That's odd. It was really loud earlier."

"Oh, whatever or whomever it is will be up and working on it the moment that it realizes exactly what we're doing," Arthur said.

"What ARE we doing?" Matthew asked.

"I already know that I cannot break the spell on this mirror. So we're going to be placing a spell on top of a spell. It will neutralize the effects of the disturbances," Arthur said.

Arthur handed the candles off to Matthew. "There are two red, two yellow, two white and two black candles. What I want you to do is to place the two red in the north, the two yellow in the east, the two black in the west and the two white to the south. And make sure the candles are evenly spaced."

Matthew jumped up to obey.

"And make sure that you don't touch the covering until I tell you to. I want to do a basic containment spell first so that I can examine the mirror without any disturbances and see what I missed last time," Arthur grabbed two well used knives out of his bag. As soon as Matthew was done, he pulled up the hood of his robe and motioned for Matthew to do the same.

"The spell will be stronger with two of us," he said at Matthew's questioning glance. He pushed the second knife into Matthew's hands. "Step into the circle with me and repeat after me."

"O great spirit of the North! Spirit of valour, courage and protection, we, noble heirs-"

"Can you go a bit more slowly?" Matthew said.

"Matthew! Lad, you can't just interrupt me like that. We're trying to get the gods to aid us. But yes, I'll go a bit more slowly for you." Arthur raised the knife over the his wrist. He extended his arm over one of the two red candles and faced the northern part of the circle. Beside him Matthew did the same.

"O great spirit of the North! Spirit of valour, courage and protection in battle, we, noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night." Matthew hesitantly repeated Arthur's words.

"In return we offer thee a humble gift." At the last word, Arthur drew the blade gently over his wrist. Blood beaded around the wound and a drop traced its way down his arm and fell. The drop struck the candle and immediately burst into flame. A drop of Matthew's blood hit the other candle an instant later, causing it to light as well.

Arthur walked over to the two candles facing east. "O kind spirit of the East, spirit of light, birth and care, we, noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

This time as the candles lit, a gust of wind blew around the room, making the corners of the blanket covering the mirror flutter. Matthew shivered and felt goosebumps on his arms as the temperature fell. Beside him, Arthur also let out a little shiver of his own before moving on.

"O faithful spirit of the South, spirit of peace, hope and compassion, we noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

Screams and the sound of gunfire greeted the lighting of the third candles.

"Ignore it, Matthew!" Arthur shouted over his shoulder as he moved onto the fourth and final pair of candles in the circle.

"O rebellious spirit of the West, spirit of determination, success and unity, we noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

The wind kicked up and the blanket slipped off of the mirror. It fell on top of one of the southern candles, which defying all odds didn't even flicker. Or even burn the blanket. Instead the flame continued to burn merrily as if the blanket over it was from a different reality altogether. Another round gun fire blasted out from behind him. Matthew turned towards the source of the sound. In one powerful gust, the wind knocked the hood of his robe off. His hair billowed away from his face and he felt his eyes tear up at the force of the wind. He brought up a hand to shield him and his reflection caught his gaze.

The surface of the mirror was rippling, as if it was a pond that had been disturbed by a child's cast stone. Matthew's reflection rippled with it, and he found himself entranced.

"M-Matthew," Arthur's teeth chattered. "Finish this before whatever is in the mirror breaks free!"

Matthew heard this from far away, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. The mirror's rippling halted, and someone else was staring back at him. It was an older boy, almost a man dressed as a soldier and covered in blood. He held a bayonet at his side.

"Matthew get away from there!"

The determined expression on his face didn't mask wearied blue eyes that made Matthew's heart clench.

"MATTHEW!"

A haze descended on his mind, forcing his body to relax. He reached forward, fingers outstretched, perhaps he could save him? Matthew watched as the boy in the mirror did the same. Gently, he pressed his palm against the glass, and again, the soldier did the same. They stayed like that for a moment before his hand was sucked in by an invisible force. Matthew let out a soft cry as he was dragged towards the mirror, but found his body refusing to resist. He looked up into the soldier's face and saw a look of grim triumph there instead of sorrow as Matthew's hand began to appear on the other side of the mirror.

Fingers wrapped around his wrist in a bruising grip and he cried out as he was dragged closer. Why hadn't he listened to Arthur and avoided looking at the mirror? He was dimly aware of his cousin coming up behind him. Arthur's arms wrapped around his waist tightly and began trying to pull Matthew away from the mirror. The trance broke and Matthew began to yank and struggle against the entity in the mirror.

"I-It's not letting go!" he shrieked despite himself and began pulling even harder.

Arthur just continued to tug at his waist and inch by painful inch their strength overwhelmed that which was in the mirror. Matthew let out another yelp as his wrist reappeared with the being's hand still attached to it. The spirit, or whatever it was continued to pull back for a few more seconds, before all resistance ceased. Matthew and Arthur stumbled backward and fell. Matthew felt the breath leave his lungs as something landed on top of him. He inhaled a couple of times desperately before his lungs rushed full of air again.

A blond head was interrupting his vision and it wasn't Arthur's. "Thank you," the voice had a distinct American twang to it. The grip around him tightened and Matthew could distinctly smell the blood and mud that were slowly soaking into his clothes. "Thank you so much for saving me."

"L-Let go of me!" Matthew tried to push the man off in vain. The stranger felt as heavy and as cold as iron and was draped over him as such.

The American didn't move. "He said move, you git!" Arthur seized the man by his shoulders and shoved him off. The American fell to the side and Matthew was hauled roughly to his feet by Arthur. Without saying another word, his cousin headed back over to the bag he had brought with him and pulled out another book.

"Don't. Please!"

Arthur paused. "Give me one good reason not to send you to the world beyond."

"I was trapped!" The stranger put his hands up in front of his face as if warding off a blow.

"A likely story," Arthur snorted. "I saw you almost pull the lad straight into the mirror and you expect me to believe that you weren't trying to take him?"

"I wasn't! It wasn't my fault," the man cried out. "It was the mirror's fault! It's evil!"

Arthur's eye twitched dangerously. "So you wouldn't mind if we destroy the mirror then. Jolly good then. Matthew, could -"

"Don't! Please don't."

"Are you or are you not the aggressor here!"

"I don't-"

"That's it!" Arthur shouted. "Prepare to be resealed!"

"Please! Please, don't make me beg," the blond man said.

"Ar-Arthur, p-perhaps we should at least let him tell us what happened to him first."

"Matthew-"

"What can it hurt?" Matthew pushed on. "I don't think that he was going to pull me into the m-mirror."

"I really wasn't," the man chimed in.

"Shut it, you!" Arthur snapped. "Matthew, I don't think that would be the most appropriate course of action."

Matthew shook his head. "I just don't think we're getting the entire story here. What if he is who he is trying to say that he is. Would you like to have that on your conscience?"

Arthur hesitated. "I suppose you're right. However, I must insist that he is properly contained for his explanation."

He turned and looked at the man. "Go stand in the centre of the room. Matthew, take the bag of salt that you brought up earlier and pour a circle around our guest."

Matthew scrambled to obey. The stranger held still as he dumped a ring of salt around him.

"What will this do?"

"Try to step over it."

The young man did so and yelped when his form began to smoke. Arthur nodded in satisfaction.

"So, tell us about yourself," Arthur said.

The entity took a deep breath and stood. "My name is Alfred F. Jones and I have been trapped in that mirror for nearly one hundred years."

* * *

Thoughts?


End file.
